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I live in a 900-square-foot, two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. Each bedroom has a full bathroom, a closet, and area for a desk. The kitchen is relatively large with a dishwasher, stove and oven, large sink, washer and dryer, and full refrigerator. A living room hosts a couch, chair, table, and television. The ceilings are expansive and tall; not palatial, but more than necessary. Maybe it’s just my “phase of life,” but this space feels like more than enough. What more could I need?

At 27 years old, I make enough to live. My salary is just over $20,000 each year. I can’t really save much considering the costs of my education and ancillary costs, but I’m happy with what I have. There’s room for improvement, but as I look at my apartment and stuff, I can’t help but feel embarrassed by the relative opulence. Most of the world doesn’t have it this good. I have everything I need right now.

If I were married, the apartment would actually feel even larger, too. Currently, my roommate’s stuff occupies a solid half of the apartment. If it was just my partner and I, we would share the same space, and only need one bedroom. The other room could become an office, dayroom — whatever! Heck, it could be a walk-in closet for all I care!

Over 900 square feet, I would begin to feel the creep of growth — the push to fill space whenever emptiness is present. Whether it’s my philosophical values of frugality or minimalism or a desire to minimize my carbon impact, I’d hesitate to grow beyond these walls. They wouldn’t be necessary.

However, it’s important to consider whether my tendency toward extremism is getting the best of me. Could there be a time in life when 900 square feet might not be enough? Potentially. If I had a larger family or needed to make room for my parents or some other unique situation arose, I could see the need. But it would be temporary to expand to the need of others, not constant space for the rest of my life. I’d want to downsize again.

Last week, I was reading an article in The New York Times about couples who had moved decades ago into the suburbs surrounding New York City. Some had moved into large bungalows and McMansions to raise families, enjoy the slower life, and have more room to grow.

One family raised three children in a 2,400-square-foot home. For those struggling with math like me, that’d be 5 people — 3 more than my roommate and I. With about 500 square feet per resident, the house could probably be quite a comfortable location. When accounting for the size of the home, it doesn’t include off-site storage, yards, and/or storage sheds that can be added later.

Now, later in life and three adult children, this family is looking to downsize and move back to the city, culture, and bustle of Manhattan. Who can blame them, too? New York City is fun — there’s always something to do, eat, and see. But as that couple looked for locations, they came up empty. They said all they could find were “depressing,” “very small” places at 900 square feet.

My jaw dropped at the statement. I was shocked! Here I’ve been living in apartments of 900 or less square feet for about 4 years; yet, this couple was struggling to move into such a space. What was I missing?!

Here’s what I suspect:

People develop and find a comfort in abundance. To downsize may be a reflection of lost class and status.

There’s a fear of giving up and away. Some material goods might not keep us alive, but are still hard to part with.

Despite a “couple’s” desire to downsize, there might be discrepancies. Making a move up, down, or laterally isn’t always mutually agreed upon in the relationship. Those contrasting aspects can prevent people from committing to a serious downsize.

We reach an adaptational level, which sets a new normal. Anything less just doesn’t feel “right.”

Surrounded by a culture of mass and materialism, it’s hard to buck that trend and go small.

The reality is smaller spaces are freeing for people young and old. Not having lots of material goods and space means you can vacation when you want, dig into more expensive cultures, and enjoy a break from endless chores. And more importantly, plenty of normal, average, everyday people live in small spaces with great efficiency (Just look at this couple who lives in a beautiful, 420-square-foot apartment).

For years, magazines, newspapers, and all other forms of media have stressed how wealthy people buy opulent homes. Tens of millions of dollars are spent to afford these palaces. From Bill Gates to Ellen DeGeneres, these homes capture our attention. Don’t we want to be successful just like them?

Rather than duplicate this display of status, we can choose another path. What if we looked for the smallest apartments or homes? What if we looked for less? What if we looked for tiny, modular apartments that move and shift to our needs? What if we gave up our cultural addiction to more stuff in favor the culture out there?

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Tell me about successful people and you might be inclined to rattle off resumes. Perhaps these people work hard and make sizable sums of money. Maybe they are moving into multiple-thousand square foot homes with ample room. They could even have the prestigious title of doctor or chief executive.

In our highly individualistic society that hails “hard work” and “grit” and “responsibility” and “choice,” we learn early on what success looks like. Different cultures have variations of vocational prestigiousness, but many share in the desire to own land, property, and make more money than most. To be accomplished, one must follow this tattered path.

The ability to captivate through material possessions and titles is dangerous. Real success and accomplishment seems lost amidst this cavalcade of crap. Worse, these measures of success are not afforded to everyone. Minorities and those from disenfranchised backgrounds are not offered the same opportunities to “succeed” in these traditional ways. For example, faculty at institutions of higher learning are overwhelmingly white men, and that’s a problem for everyone.

Our ideas and definitions of success are decrepit. We need new measures, and we’re long overdue. If success cannot be afforded with greater equality, why do we continue to allow these narrow ideas to continue? What exactly are we doing with these antiquated ideals? Why do we trumpet individual achievement that only goes to consume and perpetuate inequities?

Society benefits in the propagation of materialism and consumption. And current measures of success conveniently fit this modality. Buy the home, buy a bigger one. Buy the car, buy a more luxurious one.

We need better, less financially dependent measures of successes. Education is out of reach for many. Material possessions are tired and tried methods of achievement. Income disparities are nearing Gilded Age levels again. Larger homes consume more fossil fuels to heat and cool. Luxury vehicles tend to burn through gasoline. And prestigious titles seem reserved for those born and ascribed status.

Just because “success” works for capitalism doesn’t mean it works for the collective. Let’s craft something a little different. Perhaps we can live in a world that defines success flexibly. Perhaps we can see success in the helping hand, time, and dollar given to anyone/someone in need. Perhaps we can see success in the mother that raises children who respect the planet and find ways to help others. Perhaps we need to break out from formal strictures that rule over our lives, and consider that consumption cannot equal achievement.

Disbanding this present thinking provides for a future with hope for the masses. Achievements needn’t be through prescribed methods and lists of prestigious professions. We need a world with janitors, plumbers, assistant to the assistant managers, and everything in between. We need a world where someone making $35,000 per year, retiring with little, but helping find foster homes for children is seen as a hero (and heck, would it hurt to pay that person a little more?).

Humans are incredibly creative; yet, we have allowed these to persist. We are flawed, but have great potential. It’s time to shed archaic messages. They were convenient for marketers, but harbored horrific messages to those who couldn’t meet the prescribed rules.

How would you define success? Who are your role models? What do you think about income, vocation, and education as measures of success?

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Photo: Geraint Rowland/Flickr

Hoping for a better life

As children, we’re often exposed to idealistic messages: work hard and become whatever you want. But possibilities change and reduce as we age. The responsibilities grow, and the window to become whatever you can dream up tends to dissipate.

It would be nice to champion what many popular businesspersons say about success and achievement. It would be nice to say that the world is your oyster, and you can do anything you can think up. Unfortunately, that would negate the very real circumstances that we all find ourselves in. We come from different races, ethnicities, socioeconomics, genders, and more. Life varies, as do the opportunities.

Most of us cannot drop everything — all our responsibilities — to fulfill dream vocations. Many are just working to pay the bills — to get by. Some are burdened by being single parents, persons with disabilities, and any number of things that pose greater challenges to “making it.”

Debt holds back those dreams further

My frugal journey started with many zeros in the opposite direction. I was in debt to the tune of nearly $40,000, and without an escape plan. I wanted to have a life of freedom to ponder my intrinsic interests and passions. I wanted the opportunity to find my dream job — regardless of income level.

Before I could pursue those future possibilities, I needed to make more income and pay off massive amounts of debt. My paychecks weren’t enough to pay off loans and survive in graduate school. The equation didn’t compute, and I was running a scary deficit.

The mountain of debt seemed unconquerable. Dreams of a pleasant future were held back, and replaced with terrifying sweats and nervous nights. Debt was closing doors in my life. I needed more money.

Desperate times, desperate measures?

From the very start of Frugaling, I received emails from individuals and organizations wanting to write articles for me. At first I was flattered by their offers — some even included payments! Swirling with pride and appreciation at being offered real money to simply publish articles, I contemplated their offers, but hesitated.

I soon learned that these were “sponsored article” or “paid guest post” emails. They increased in frequency and payment amounts as I continued to write and grow Frugaling. Over the course of nearly two years, I received thousands of dollars in guest posting opportunities, but never accepted them. The emails tended to be from predatory lenders and questionable corporations. They seemed eager to receive traffic from websites and to pull from others’ reputations.

That money could’ve taken me on a European vacation, if I accepted every offer that came my way. My debt would’ve been paid off faster, and investing started sooner. There’s just one catch, I would’ve sold out my entire audience — including you!

Recently, I received another email that stated I could receive about $500 to place a sponsored article on Frugaling. Again, I thought about what it meant if I shared it with you all. What I found was that it wasn’t worth it. What I do on this website is about more than just making me more money. Ironic, seeing as this personal finance site, isn’t it?

Finding limits and sticking to them

Most individuals don’t kill, lie, cheat, or steal to make money. Whether religiously informed or intrinsically motivated, these are ethical/moral limits that prevent people from acting on individual needs. They recognize — whether consciously or unconsciously — that hurting another for one’s own gain isn’t collectively advantageous. In other words, individual achievement should not trump collective successes.

Turning down hundreds of dollars for 500 to 700-word articles from shady organizations and individuals was a limit for me. Motivated by a fear of alienating you and misrepresenting my values, I decided against any of these offers — and will continue to.

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I’ve never had an empty bank account without some support from others. I’ve never hit zero dollars, and then decided what I need to sell to make ends meet. I’ve never run out of money, and been unable to make a co-pay or buy food. This is a privilege of my social class, but it’s also a consequence of this country’s acceptance of debt.

When I turned 18, I immediately applied for my first credit card. I researched and found the ultimate cash back card for my beginning credit line. At the time, that meant a $50 bonus for opening the account, and a check every time I hit $50 in rewards. The bonuses weren’t much, but they were a taste of the good life.

Even before I was accepted into graduate school, I started spending more. A computer sound system — that was amazing! A beautiful road bike. New smartphones whenever I wanted. Life was good, but it was all an illusion. It was all charged to credit cards, and my poor spending habits only descended as my academic career continued.

Eventually, I needed to take out a balance transfer, and opened a new credit card that allowed me to transfer and put off my debt. When I finally started getting student loans, I needed more to pay off the credit debt. This is the classic “robbing Peter to pay Paul” concept of debt payments. I constantly owed one bank something or another. Frankly, this life was stressful and full of unknowns. I constantly questioned, “Will I have enough to pay off this debt?”

But that was all behind the scenes. On the surface, I was a brimming success. Look at the materialistic items I was able to purchase — the “things” I had amassed! I could scan around my room and provide details about the latest purchase — all without addressing a gaping hole in my story.

Everything was purchased with debt. My things were the banks’ things.

Debt prevents us from seeing how little we actually have. It’s a scary psychological trick that banks prop up for us. Why should anyone be able to spend more than they have? Why must we finance our vehicles, homes, and dreams? If we do not have the actual money, why should we be enabled and empowered to spend?

I’m not sure that, as humans, we’ve evolved rapidly enough to adapt to taking out and handling debt properly. And yet, our system pushes people to adapt or perish in bills and debt collectors. The victims of this systemic problem are blamed and tarnished — left to bankruptcies (unless it’s student loan debt — you must die to rid yourself of that) and court proceedings.

We need to reevaluate both success and reality. In reality, the life I lead is a modest one where I cannot afford that European vacation I desperately want. But my credit card and possible student loan access says otherwise. In reality, I cannot afford to own a nice car I want. But my bank keeps offering me car loans at 2% interest APR.

Where can I find the middle path? Where can I compromise and meet my budgetary reality? The simplest answer I’ve found is realizing that I don’t need much. In fact, most everything I ever purchased served an unnecessary status function in my life. The only way I’ve been able to stay afloat these days is by realizing how little I “need” and how much can be thrown away as “wants” — some of which are extrinsically motivated.

When I want to spend more than I have because I can, I constantly remind myself about the stress and unknown feelings surrounding debt. There was such powerful shame because I couldn’t “control myself.” We need to take responsibility where we can, while also recognizing that we live in a system that ushers out goodies to perpetuate and encourage spending — then blames you for participating. The best we can do is remove the credit card chicanery and unveil the truth: debt is the illusion of success.